


Spaces

by destielpasta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coda, Emotional Sex, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place throughout season 9. Dean and Cas's stolen moments, wherever and whenever they can get them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Post-9.03; I'm No Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I have to sincerely thank Casfallsinlove from tumblr, this is based on her wonderful playlist which you can find here: 8tracks(.)com/mcpadalackles/come-back-when-you-can.
> 
> This is going to be an ongoing project, with one chapter for every song in the playlist, and it'll update when it updates. Every chapter will have it's own function and purpose, and they might not go in complete canonical order.
> 
> Rated E for specific chapters, but each one will be different. Some will be long, some short. If the chapter is an episode coda, it will have 'post-episode#' as the title. If it is during an episode, it will have 'mid-episode#' as the title. Enjoy :)

Dean gets a hotel room. For what, he doesn't know. Cas doesn't ask.

 

Castiel looks like rain. His hair flops in front of his eyes, longer than the last time. He doesn't say much, contented to sit at the hotel table with the bag of Doritos Dean had brought along. Castiel eats like he isn't starving, like the powdery cheese isn't probably like a fucking delicacy to him right now.

 

Dean stops thinking. He doesn't know what Cas is going through. Maybe he keeps himself good, keeps himself all kept up and well fed. He's not a kid.

 

No, he's not a kid, but his hair flops in his eyes like one and his shoes have grass stains and his elbows are scraped up. Or maybe he just doesn't know how human looks on Cas yet.

 

He keeps his eyes away from Dean. His left hand sits in his lap and his right is back and forth to the bag. He might as well be in China.

 

Dean finds that he doesn't care. Cas is skinny and hollow looking, and if he can get a bag of chips in him before he has to go, then so be it. Small victories and all.

 

_Sam thinks he's got some leads on how we can track the angels._

 

Chew chew. The sun sets enough that it only casts shadows into the room. Cas nods.

 

_Sam is a good man._

 

And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? That he's shit? That he turned the only friend he has out on the street without so much as a fake credit card, denying him a home and hot water? He's shit.

 

 _Yeah he is,_ Dean says without letting his voice crack, watching his own fingers tap on the formica tabletop. It mimics marble, black swirling in with grey.

 

 _Looks like rain for the next few days,_ Cas supplies with a full mouth. His attempt at small talk comes with three seconds of eye contact and the nudging of the almost-empty chip bag towards Dean.

 

Dean takes it like it's worth a million fucking dollars, because it is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: Holocene by Bon Iver


	2. Mid-9.06; Heaven Can't Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the night, Dean stitches Cas up.

Dean gets a hotel room that night. Goddammit he _needs_ it.

 

Cas's arm needs a hotel room, as twisted and torn up it got during the battle with the angel, so Dean doesn't care. He's got bandages and peroxide and thank FUCK that Cas isn't pink mist right now.

 

_Dean, that stings._

 

_You better believe it stings you ground a fuck ton of germs into your hand when you grabbed that stem now you gotta pay the price._

 

_I was trying to survive._

 

_Yeah. Yeah I know._

 

Dean's got his arm over the sink, pouring the clear solution onto the jagged pieces of skin torn up by the rose's thorns. The wound is shallow and superficial, not worth much more than a bandage and annoyed ranting under his breath. He sets Cas's wrist with the same efficiency, wrapping it up and fastening the splint. Not broken, just a glorified muscle strain.

 

It takes a whole fifteen minutes and then there's a whole night ahead of them. Dean cleans up the mess while trying to ignore the way Cas's thigh presses up against his while he brushes his teeth with the hotel toothbrush. He tries and fails and then Castiel is rinsing his mouth out and turning around to grab him with his good hand and that's all it takes.

 

Dean reciprocates without much thought; how can you think about something that's been coming at you head-on for years? He only wishes that it had been through the ring of holy fire or up against his car (even though he had been covered in bees at the time jesus christ) or with a purgatory tree scratching up his back. Sooner, much sooner than this flea-bag motel in particular.

 

But Cas is warm _now_ , and he pushes into it like dead-inside bastard that he is. Cas's lips, chapped and rough, feel like a godsend and then his own hands press into his hair like he has to hold on for dear life. He tastes like hotel toothpaste. Cas's leg hitches up, grinding their hips together, opening up with the deepening of the kiss. He swallows down Cas's breath and wraps his other arm around his back like, pulling, urging.

 

 _Up,_ Dean says, little more than a huff into Cas's mouth.

 

Dean pretends that the answering moan doesn't drive him fucking nuts as Cas breaks away (When had that arm wound around his neck?) to oblige, sitting up on the counter to better wrap his legs around Dean's shaking body and pull him close. Dean thanks whatever god-forsaken deity that's listening that the countertop is just high enough that their hips can meet flush, and that Cas isn't afraid to take advantage of that.

 

They move against each other, clothes heavy and annoying but Dean can't go there just yet. What he can do is dive headfirst into the divide of Cas's shirt, sucking and mouthing at those collar bones that could drive him to drink for days.

 

 _Thanks for telling me to unbutton my shirt,_ the asshole laughs above him, his voice lighter that it has any right to be. They're fucking being gay as all get out here and Dean's trying his hardest to panic but it doesn't happen.

 

Cas squirms and his laugh turns to a moan, trying to get the movement going again. Dean sees the practicality in maybe getting their pants open because fuck otherwise they'll be here all night (pushing 34 here). He lets out one of those embarrassing sounds as soon as he can feel the curve of Cas's cock against his own. Cas answers by pressing closer and wrapping every available limb around him and rocking, rocking, rocking until Dean sees fit to join the party again, flying on fucking cloud nine with Cas's head buried in his neck.

 

He makes it back to Cas's lips just as he's feeling his orgasm twisting in his stomach, one hand on Cas's lower back to keep him close and the other under his shirt, finally feeling the gull to explore as Cas jerks in his arms, sending wet release between them and pushing Dean over the edge at last.

 

Dean licks at the salty skin between Cas's neck and shoulder, catching his breath. Cas's arms relax but stay tight around his ribs, hands rubbing up and down, the rhythmic sound mingling with the buzzing of the lights. The bandage on his hand snags with a snap. It's loud.

 

He presses another kiss to Cas's neck and strokes at his ribs with the side of his thumb, knowing that when he resurfaces he'll become a horrible creature. He'll zip up his pants and tell Cas that he should take the shower first before they catch some sleep and that he'll drop him off in the morning.

 

And he does.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: Come back when you can by Barcelona


	3. Mid-9.09; Holy Terror

 

They don't have enough time.

 

The bathroom's empty, by some miracle. Only one light works and they stumble and trip over cracked tiles and Dean just wants to laugh but he doesn't want to break away from Cas's mouth. That same mouth as last time in the hotel room except it's less chapped now, like someone threw him a tube of vaseline one day and he never looked back.

 

Dean blindly reaches for the deadbolt on the door, trusting that a dive like this would be shady enough to have a lock on a multi-stall restroom. It latches with a _click,_ just in time for Cas to flatten his hands on his chest and push. Dean's back hits the plywood with a thump and his hands reach out to pull Cas back to him by the lapels.

 

Cas just looked too good in a suit, laughed too loudly and tried too hard to seem human, and it was all too much for Dean to take with only one beer in his system. Sam had stepped out to take a call (either Sam or Zeke or who the hell knows these days) and they only had a minute. Not enough for anything satisfying but just enough to hold him off. As if he was a wild animal or something.

 

Cas's mouth tastes like cheap beer and bar nuts, but it's warm and opens easily when Dean caresses the back of neck. Their lips slide together easily, spit-slick and warm and yielding.

 

_Don't lie to me,_ Cas breathes into his mouth.

 

Dean doesn't. By omission. His hands speak to Cas's belt buckle instead, efficiently removing it and tossing it on the ground beside their shoes. He takes hold of the loops on Cas's waistband and swings him around, backing him into the wall and palming at the bulge at Cas's zipper.

 

Cas's sharp inhale turns into a soft laugh. _I thought we weren't going to talk about this._

 

_You're the only one talking,_ Dean says before capturing his lips again, already pink and swollen. He palms at Cas's groin again, enjoying the hitch of his breath and the way Cas grabs at his wrist to increase the pressure. 

 

Dean makes a quick decision and sinks to his knees, untucking Cas's shirt on the way and mouthing at the soft skin of his stomach. Cas sighs and drops one hand to his hair, gently running his fingers through his hair, tugging enough to shoot pangs of pleasure down to his abdomen.

 

He makes quick work of the button and zipper, pushing Cas's pants and boxers down and out of the way before pressing soft kisses to the crease at his hip, just brushing his cock with the side of his face.

 

_You cool with this?_

 

_What do you think?_ Cas almost growls, drawing circles through the stubble on Dean's face. 

 

Dean doesn't waste much more time, already sensing that some asshole was about to try to bulldoze his way in here and he didn't exactly want to be caught in redneck America with another guy's dick in his mouth.

 

It's strange at first, in that way that doing something you haven't done in a long time can be strange. He sucks gently at the head, enjoying the soft sounds of desperation and gentle tugs at his hair. Cas doesn't appear to have had this happen to him before, judging by the way his knees collapse slightly. He takes more in, loving the heavy feeling of Cas on his tongue.

 

Dean braces one hand against the wall and and the other at Cas's hip, slowly starting to bob his head. Cas's breath changes to moans and Dean wonders when he'll learn about inhibitions, when someone will tell him that men don't make sounds like that (gorgeous fucking perfect sounds).

 

Somehow a _Don't stop_ makes it through those sounds and even though Dean had no intention of stopping he speeds up instead, fixing one hand at the base and moaning around Cas's length until hands tighten in his hair and Cas comes with a shout. Dean kneads his hands into the backs of Cas's thighs as he comes down from it, sucking softly until he pulls away.

 

Looking up at Cas is a sight to behold. He leans his head back against the door, obviously catching his breath or organizing his thoughts or gathering the courage to look Dean in the eye. He's pretty aware of his own erection pressing against his zipper, but it's not urgent. Cas blindly grabs for his shoulder, pulling him up and planting a wet kiss on his lips.

 

He stills Cas's hand when it starts to move down to his waistband.

 

_No time,_ he says into Cas's mouth, wanting to use whatever they had left to press against him, to feel him settle into his skin and bones. 

 

He tries not to think about the way Cas traces his fingers lightly down his arm while he cleans him up, or how he cards his fingers through his hair while Dean straightens his tie. It's all too soft, too tender, and unfitting of the moment. Dean has to clear his throat to get him to drop his hand. Only then does he unlock the door and usher Cas out, making sure to wait the appropriate fifteen seconds before following him. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: Tough by Daughter


End file.
